Silvertooth had been antsy all day, with the pups a day older, the move was getting closer. An early morning frost covered summers dew as the days got shorter and summer fell into fall. Lightfoot scouted ahead, his nose to the ground sniffing out a meal for the pack. He had caught a scent of a deer, and now we followed him, salivating at thoughts of our next meal. We made our way through the forest. As we continued onwards the earth sloped and the smell of damp soils and grassy water weeds reached our noses. We had found the deer's watering hole, and with it would come the multitude of other animals that drank from its depths.

We separated, slowly slipping amongst foliage, our tummies brushing the ground, our senses on alert. I loop around the pool, aware of my pack mates, as I perch downwind, and slowly make my way towards them, through the swampy weeds. We converge around a heard of caribou, not the deer we had been tracking but between the four of us, we could likely be feeding our pups an unlucky member of this heard by tonight. Our haunches pulled in tight brushing against grasses, my paws wet from the shallow swamp water, as I slowly inch toward the heard, waiting for Silvertooth to make the first move. Senses on alert, a sudden shift in winds brings a new smell to my nose, that has my ears twisting and my nose wrinkling. The changing winds has also taken away the surprise of our attack, and our prey become aware of the threat that they face. The flighty animals, smelling a predator take off, hoping to escape from a pair of chomping jaws. The pack is now in pursuit, take off after our meal.

My instincts tell me to join in the hunt, to get swept away, to satisfy the hunger in my gut. The smell has caught my nose, and something clicks within my mind, I dismiss my pack not realizing the oddity of my actions. Curiosity and apprehension follow me as I track the dark copper smell. I follow my nose. It isn't long until I find myself too close to the scent of two leggers. I can tell as their unbroken human scent arises from a well worn trail not too far away. I have gotten too close. I inch away, uneasy being so close to civilization, instincts pushing me away back into the welcome embrace of the forest.

As I turn to go and rejoin my pack brothers in their hunt, a shrill "caw" alerts me. Whipping around, I nervously approach where the noise had come from. The smell of copper and dark nights grows as I approach a fallen tree. Dismissing the threat of two leggers so close, I follow the scent and now the small fluffing of feathers , to a fallen tree. Apprehension bubbles up within me, but a strange feeling washes over me as I disregard my instincts. The instincts that proved life saving during my time in the pack, and maybe even before. A wiggling feeling in the back of my mind, something trying to get free, it gives me the courage that I need. I slowly lift a paw into the fallen trees crevice, where the noises and smells seem to be originating from.

An indignant "caw" is repeated as I brush against something soft. Taken by surprise I jolt back, taking steps back in fright. It takes me time to bring up the courage to go back to the log. With the utmost care, I move to take the strange smelling creature out of the log to further investigate. Carefully, like I would with a new born pup, I inch the creature out, and lightly pick it up in my mouth.

Despite its strange acquiescence to movement by my paw, it seems displeased by its new form of transportation within my mouth. Flutter wings and fluffing feathers bat my face, while I attempt to keep my light hold on the creature without letting it get away. Despite the fuss, it stays put, when I gently release it onto the ground.

The black feathers and sharp beak say that it is a winged brother. The strange eyes, and peculiar smell, however point to a different story however. The creature seems to be in pain though, and remains mostly motionless despite the ragged movement of its chest. It stays were I have placed it despite the imminent danger of a predator in its midst.

Puzzlement flows through me, it takes me off guard and with it comes questions. Questions I have never had to consider, new ideas and thoughts that have no right in a mind of a wolf. What was this creature, if it looks like a winged brother but smells like a two legger? And magic. Lots of magic. Magic swirled within its eyes, the inkiest black of the pupils dripping into the hazy and out of focus eyes of sickness. Even its breathes were laboured and stuttered. Death would not be too far away for this creature. With that thought came more questions and apprehensions.

Disliking the path of these new thoughts, Daine shook her head and came to the conclusion. Silverfoot would know best. When in doubt the alpha of the pack was always right. Settled if not a little antsy, Daine lowered herself to lie amongst the tall grasses. Keeping an eye on the strange creature while waiting for her pack to find her once they finished the hunt.

The sun was beginning to make its way towards the horizon when the pack finally came yapping back to find their missing pack sister. Hearing them, Daine barked a welcoming warning to the others, The hunt had gone well, and with Sharpclaw proudly bringing an already worked over carcass home, with full tummies, the pack would sleep well. Already frustrated and missing his pups Silverfoot was not in a gentle mood.